Tomorrow I'm heading to Glastonbury for a four day writers retreat; led by Jackee Holder whose retreat I went on last year when I finally gave birth to the book I'm writing.
I am excited, but also feel a little trepidation as to what might lay ahead for me, for last years retreat was somewhat emotional.
Three weeks before I went last year, my elderly father had a stroke, not a serious one but it was a frightening time nonetheless; for the family and for him, but especially my step mother. He spent a week in hospital and made a good recovery.
The day after I arrived on the retreat, I had a call from my step mother to inform me that dad had had a heart attack, the paramedic was with them and they were waiting for the ambulance. She told me not to worry, not to come back and that she'd keep me informed. But I did worry of course, because I was a five hour drive from the hospital. Worry? No, I was frantic.
That evening at dinner we went into 18 hours of sacred silence; but I had explained the circumstances to the leader of the spiritual community where we were staying and Jackee, who both understood that I might need to take and make calls. They were very supportive.
Sacred silence........ just alone with my thoughts which raced with such speed that Fernando Alonso would have been in second place. No distractions - no ~TV, radio, newspapers, I couldn't talk to anyone, couldn't even ask for a hug. I fought with the tears, now and again they won.
So I did the only thing I could under the circumstances : I wrote. I shut myself in the library and I wrote and wrote. But it wasn't a ranting of my feelings, it came out as a piece of fiction in the third person, a woman examining her past painful relationship with her father and how that had changed over time. Reflecting back then projecting forward, anticipating his passing and her grief. A very emotional piece full of imagery that flowed with ease from my pen; almost no effort involved at all. Sacred silence and I wrestled, and we wrestled in mud.
Saturday night we worked until 10pm, the culmination of the evening was for each of to read out loud something we'd written that weekend. The group were then to write some feedback on label which were placed in an envelope and handed to the writer. I'd been dreading this (well I think we all were really!) but I knew I had to read the emotional piece I'd written the night before. I took a deep breath and went for it, I did break down and struggled to complete my reading, but I did it. The feedback i received was wonderful, I still have the envelope containing the feedback the group gave me; and yes I do get it out from time to time and read it.
The next morning, still feeling quite tearful, several members of the group hugged me and said that they aspired to write like me. I was humbled.
But...... it was the sacred silence that enabled me to get into that space where I wrote completely from the heart, explored raw emotions and that in turn, had painted a picture and triggered emotional memories for others.
So I wonder what this weekends sacred silence will bring?
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